the first hour, a marathon

tell me a story,

yours

I want to tell you mine

 

let’s start at the beginnings

that point where we are indistinguishable from each other

that point, one

where we begin to untangle

unravel

like a braid

someone’s laundry clothesline

someone’s fishing line

a long telephone wire stretching from the past

a vessel’s standard rigging

a kite string

a guitar string

the ribbon in her hair

a shoelace that no one has learned to tie yet

the thread in a quilt

the stitches in a soccer ball

a yo-yo, down and up again

down

and up again

 

tell me a story,

yours

I want to tell you mine

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